Archive of Our Own

Oral Fixation

He wasn’t sure how they got here, but Reynauld couldn’t be bothered to care, not when Dismas knelt at the foot of the bed with his slick mouth wrapped around Reynauld’s cock. 

They had done this before -- numerous times -- in any of the meager, threadbare respites they were allowed between expeditions. Normally, one or the other would be sent out to some plague-ridden hellhole, or even both of the veterans on occasion, but it was rare for the two men to be granted peace together for an entire week.

So they were making the most of it.

The sounds Reynauld was producing might have embarrassed him as they echoed in the brothel halls, carnal as they were, but he had a mind for naught else outside of Dismas sucking and bobbing in his lap.

“ Gods above , Dismas,” he encouraged with a husky voice, feeling his orgasm inching closer with each pull on his shaft, each stroke of his head, and it was all he could do to stall it.

Dismas appeared aware of how close the Crusader was by the vulgar cast of his eyes, glancing up at Reynauld with an all-consuming eagerness that the holy man could only marvel at. Reynauld loved it, loved him , loved the deliberate ways Dismas unwound him seam by seam until his hips inevitably jerked once, twice, Dismas seemingly well-prepared for Reynauld to gush down his throat moments later. 

The way Dismas could swallow everything Reynauld gave him, could ease Reynauld’s thick cock to the back of his throat and further, it was too much for the Crusader. His whole body was tense as he came, his hand tight in Dismas’ hair, urging the ex-brigand to the very base of his shaft as he thrust shallowly. 

And the Highwayman took it all, easily, nose buried deep in Reynauld’s coarse pubic hairs. 

It was impressive, the way Dismas didn’t even flinch anymore, though his eyes were squeezed tight and misty from the sheer girth as Reynauld pumped himself empty. A hot tongue slid up his length as Dismas finally pulled away a moment after, gathering any gobs of release he might have missed, and Reynauld blushed at the sight then twitched achingly when Dismas swiveled his tongue around Reynauld’s cockhead. It was too much. Gods , it was more than Reynauld ever deserved, and he trembled when Dismas eventually sat back, a self-satisfied smirk on his face. 

“Trying to drown me, priest?” 

Reynauld huffed, embarrassed, still unfamiliar with seeing his partner in battle take him so fully after everything they’d been together -- though really, it had only been a matter of time. 

He wasn’t sure if he would ever grow accustomed to the way Dismas seemed so impatient to fall into bed with him, or seemed so hungry for Reynauld to fill him one way or another. The man was insatiable. 

Certainly, Reynauld would never get used to the overwhelming affection Dismas treated him with afterward. While Reynauld himself had always been tender-hearted -- and therefore a rather giving lover -- he had never expected such reverent intimacy to blossom between him and the lawless man, albeit now it seemed an obvious development for them.

“Thank you,” Reynauld mumbled awkwardly, still unsure of how to respond whenever Dismas finished up. 

The roguish man merely smirked and wiped away any excess saliva from his mouth and neck, eyes alight with salacious want. “Anytime, Rey. Now, you gonna jerk me off, or do I gotta take care of it myself?” Dismas asked, raising a thin eyebrow at Reynauld.

It was playful and familiar, but Reynauld could hear the earnest hesitation in the question, as if Dismas also wasn't used to their particular arrangement, or as if he was apprehensive to ruin things. The thought warmed Reynauld, still basking in the afterglow of another fantastic orgasm, and he reached a large hand out to stroke Dismas' damp cheek tenderly. His heart leaped and twisted in his chest when Dismas turned his cheek to nuzzle into Reynauld’s palm, an out-of-place gesture for the normally aloof man. 

"You don't need to, you know," murmured Dismas, and Reynauld's heart seemed untethered within his ribcage at the doubt buried in the other man's voice. 

How could Reynauld have ever denied him?

Over the past year, they had fought and survived against all odds, against all forms of nightmarish creatures that called them to the grave, and would continue to do so until the cycle ended -- either with their victory or with their deaths. Though it had only been a year, Reynauld couldn’t imagine his life without the mercurial, devious Highwayman and his cunning tongue.

“I know,” Reynauld smiled comfortingly, then reached down for his rogue. “Now get up here.”

He grabbed Dismas’ arm and gently lifted him upwards until Dismas was settled against his hips, straddling the Crusader and looking down at him with a keen smirk dancing upon his lips.

Reynauld ran his hands up Dismas’ thighs languidly, indenting his fingertips into those thick muscles that clenched around Reynauld’s torso in response, and enjoyed the feel of supple brawn built for quick reflexes beneath his hands. Dismas was still wearing his undershorts, wet at the front from his leaking cock, and Reynauld teasingly ran his touch along the bottom hem of his smallclothes.

“You never like to make this quick and easy, do you?” Dismas huffed in a growl, hips jerking slightly when Reynauld slipped his fingers beneath the clothing to stroke at his thighs.

“You know I like to take my time,” countered Reynauld, his smile widening as Dismas shivered. His hands moved further upwards beneath the undergarment, nearing the other man’s groin, then abruptly slipped down the planes of Dismas’ flank to cup his ass, squeezing and kneading until Dismas was bowed over and rolling his hips in time with Reynauld’s grip. They stayed like that for a few minutes, Reynauld stroking Dismas’ ass and Dismas bucking his hips against the soft give of Reynauld’s muscular stomach. Eventually, Reynauld turned his head to speak alongside the shorter man’s sweaty temple, into the scruff of hair as Dismas continued to grind. 

“I want to enjoy this while I can, Dismas.”

Dismas snorted in response, body stilling, and Reynauld had worried he ruined the mood by bringing their dour circumstances back into the glaring forefront, but then Dismas merely grabbed Reynauld’s face and kissed him, hard. When he pulled back, they were both short of breath and Dismas’ voice was husky as he simply stated: “I ain’t goin’ anywhere, you holy bastard.”

Heart clenching, Reynauld pulled Dismas back down for another heated kiss, slowly deepening it with each roll of their tongue, every cant of their lips, until Dismas had coaxed Reynauld’s willing tongue deep into him, deep enough for Reynauld to taste --

Himself , he realized with a start.

He didn’t fight it, much as his instincts told him to, and instead savored the sharp tang of his own cum on Dismas’ tongue, his cock surprisingly twitching at the taste. 

As they kissed, Reynauld’s hand edged towards the front of Dismas’ underpants, tented and damp, and Dismas immediately jerked forward with a moan that Reynauld swallowed down welcomingly. He loved the sounds Dismas made, and Reynauld loved being the one to elicit those sounds that struck to his very core. 

Reynauld curled his palm around Dismas through the cloth, fingers wrapping loosely against his erection, barely giving the Highwayman the tension he was clearly looking for with his rutting, needy body. They broke apart for air and Dismas groaned a frustrated noise into the meager space between them, sending chills down Reynauld’s spine. He inched back just enough to look at the flustered rogue, to commit the look of Dismas so desperate to be touched -- by Reynauld , for Light’s sake -- to memory.

The salty taste lingered, still at Reynauld’s lips and he was struck with an impulse.

Before his confidence could waver, the Crusader hooked one of Dismas’ legs and tossed his weight until they rolled over together, but now with Reynauld on top and Dismas cocking an eyebrow up at him challengingly. 

“If you wanted to spar,” Dismas smirked, ready for a battle for dominance. “You should have said so from the start, Rey.”

But he didn’t, not this time, and with an embarrassed shake of his head, Reynauld sucked in a breath and steeled himself. “I… I had something else in mind, actually.”

Dismas’ eyebrows rose higher. “Oh?”

Reynauld thickly swallowed, the sudden onset of nerves reminding him of the first few times they met up in the brothel when he wasn’t sure how to navigate this foreign territory with the other man. Every step of the way, however, Dismas had been patient and mindful of Reynauld’s inhibitions, a patience which shouldn’t have been surprising to the knight after all this time, but was regardless. Even in this facet of their time spent in the bedroom, the one Reynauld nervously floundered in, Dismas had been understanding -- or at the very least, hadn’t pressured Reynauld into it.

During their long nights of intimacy in the past, Reynauld had kissed and tasted nearly every inch of the Highwayman’s body and relished each stretch of skin, dip of bone, plane of muscle and more. 

All except one particular area that was currently jutting into Reynauld’s thigh, throbbing and demanding his attention.

He wasn’t sure what it was about giving oral to a man that made him so hesitant. Sure, Reynauld could easily chalk it up to the church’s narrow-minded influence, but he was well past the point of caring what the Eternal Flame thought of his and Dismas’ frequent exchanges. Now he knew it was something more personal, something that made him feel horribly inadequate regarding going down on Dismas; he was inexperienced. It was to be expected, Reynauld’s logical side told him, since he had never been with another man before Dismas -- really, he had never been with anyone other than Hannah. 

As such, why wouldn’t Reynauld be inexperienced with this? It made sense. The thought of putting a dick in his mouth and bringing a man to completion had never once occurred to him, but now that it had , Reynauld found himself painfully aware of his shortcomings. He was going to be terrible at it, he knew, and was terrified of disappointing Dismas. 

While Reynauld pondered his reticence regarding the matter, Dismas reached up and ran his hand up the Crusader’s neck to his hair where he buried it, bringing Reynauld lower until their lips met. Perhaps the Highwayman could read the nerves building in him, though they quickly melted away to that comfortable oblivion that Reynauld could only seem to find while pressed to Dismas. The tension in his shoulders disappeared, the self-consciousness waned, and Reynauld made a grateful noise in his chest.

This was Dismas, his partner in both battle and the bedroom, and he trusted him wholly. 

A moment later, Dismas slid his tongue into Reynauld’s open, groaning mouth and Reynauld sucked on it experimentally, trying to imagine what it would be like to have Dismas’ member between his lips. The resulting carnal sound Dismas made shot straight to Reynauld’s groin, despite having already orgasmed earlier, and suddenly Reynauld needed to know. With a wet noise, Reynauld pulled back, face hot and breath rushed. “I want to try something new.”

Dismas nodded with an eager smirk, and Reynauld wondered if the ex-brigand knew what he was planning. “No complaints here, priest.” 

He gave his lover another quick kiss, trusting in the other man to be as patient with this as he had been with everything else Reynauld had to learn in the bedroom, then pulled away and shifted down Dismas’ body. Normally, Reynauld would be taking his time, kissing, biting, tasting every inch of the Highwayman as he descended, but his nerves were getting the best of him and before he was ready, Reynauld found himself kneeling, his face hovering inches from Dismas’ undershorts. Dismas tensed a bit, as if caught off guard by where Reynauld positioned himself, and before Reynauld could figure out what to do next, he felt a comforting hand combing through his hair.

“You sure, Rey?”

The question startled him, like Reynauld hadn’t even considered backing out as an option, but he merely nodded his head, eyes still focused on the outline of Dismas’ erection within his shorts. 

Then he leaned forward, pressing his mouth to the clothed cock which twitched from the sudden contact and ran his parted lips from the base to the tip, where the damp spot had abruptly spread. He heard Dismas breathe out sharply through his nose when Reynauld gave the spot a tentative lick, exploring the taste and surprising himself by not outright hating it. 

After a few more minutes of experimentally running his mouth along the taut fabric, Reynauld pulled back, deciding he was ready to attempt the act itself -- and judging by Dismas’ heady gaze and shaky breaths, Reynauld wasn’t the only one ready.

The undershorts slid off easily and Dismas’ erection sprang free, pink in length and glistening at the tip, and Reynauld paused, the flood of nerves mounting at the sight. It seemed much bigger than it had a second ago, and now Reynauld wasn’t sure how he would manage to take it all in the way Dismas did with him. Suddenly, it felt overwhelming, and if not for the gentle hand still carding through his hair, Reynauld might have avoided the inevitable failure and backed out entirely.

But no, Dismas deserved better than that. He deserved to feel as good as he made Reynauld feel, and with that to encourage him, Reynauld swallowed down his anxiety. 

“Just go slow, okay?” Dismas spoke above him, sounding surprisingly calm for how tightly wound his entire body was. The hand buried in Reynauld’s hair didn’t push or pull either way like the Crusader often did when their positions were reversed, and for that, Reynauld was grateful. “You can stop any time.” 

Reynauld shook his head defiantly at that. “I want you to enjoy this, Dismas.”

“Listen, Rey, I’ll enjoy it if you do.”

It was heart-wrenchingly earnest, and Reynauld finally met his eyes despite his awkward position between Dismas’ legs. Light above , he loved this man like he never imagined was possible, and without looking away, Reynauld slowly lowered his head. 

He began at the base again and was momentarily taken aback by how warm the other man was -- which seemed obvious now, and it wasn’t like Reynauld hadn’t kissed most of the Highwayman’s body in the past. But this was far different than kissing Dismas’ thighs, or even kissing his clothed erection from mere minutes earlier. No, this felt like a heat that could scald Reynauld in the best of ways, and he parted his lips to welcome it. 

Open-mouthed, Reynauld moved upwards, licking alone the thick vein that throbbed beneath the flat of his tongue, savoring the sensation more than he thought he would. 

Something else that surprised the Crusader was the distinct absence of taste -- licking up Dismas’ shaft just tasted of skin and sweat, both of which Reynauld could never get enough of when it came to the Highwayman. Once he got to the top, however, that changed immediately as his tongue was met with precum; it gave him pause, but a few more laps with his tongue later and Reynauld had adjusted to it well enough. Then carefully, he dared to reach up and slide the foreskin back enough to take Dismas’ slick cockhead between his lips, his tongue flooding with the sheer taste of Dismas. 

It felt… strange. Not in a bad way, Reynauld thought, just… large . 

“ Fuck , Reynauld,” Dismas hissed, and Reynauld pulled back quickly, afraid that he’d messed up, but the lust darkening Dismas’ face promised that he had done otherwise. So he tried again, gliding the skin back and slipping Dismas’ tip past his lips and into his mouth, easier now with the mix of spit and precum glossing them both. 

“Wider, if you can, Rey,” guided Dismas, groaning when Reynauld complied and stretched his jaw to a near-uncomfortable point. “Just like that, Rey, perfect -- ”

His words faded to a keening sound as the Crusader took him in further; now that his mouth was wider, there was more to fill, though he was still uncertain how he would fit much more than a few inches. The obscene memory of Dismas with his face and throat stuffed full of Reynauld’s admittedly sizable cock earlier that night gave Reynauld a new appreciation for Dismas’ blowjobs. It made him determined to take more, as much as he could manage without choking, and inched lower down Dismas’ pulsing dick. 

This was harder than it looked, Reynauld concluded as he nearly triggered his gag reflex, feeling the all-consuming weight of the ex-brigand’s prick on his tongue. He rubbed at the underside of Dismas’ cockhead with his tongue to distract himself, to do anything other than just sit there and adjust, and felt Dismas tense sharply beneath his grip. When Reynauld looked up, the man laid out before him was staring down at him illicitly, lithe ab muscles tensed and rigid. 

So Reynauld did it again, trying to play with the pressure that he lapped at Dismas’ tip with, feeling the gag reflex eventually subside to the sheer erotic excitement taking over him; he was actually going down on Dismas, and astonishingly, Dismas was enjoying it.

The surge of confidence spurred him on, desperately wanting to feel Dismas even further in his mouth, but quickly found his limits when he choked and pulled off. 

“You okay?” Dismas started to sit up, eyes worried. 

Embarrassed, Reynauld stifled his coughing and tried to smile, but was too frustrated with his attempt -- he’d thought he could do better, go further before choking and making a fool of himself. “I’m fine. Just went too fast.”

Dismas nodded, his hand still buried in Reynauld’s hair. “We can stop.”

“ No ,” insisted Reynauld. Not only was this now a challenge for him to overcome, but he was… genuinely excited to try again. 

The other man chuckled and leaned back down, hand petting through Reynauld’s hair tenderly, and Reynauld shivered from the soothing touch. He liked this. Or rather, he liked making Dismas feel good, liked the sensation of Dismas’ cock straining and pulsing between his lips, and the heady feedback he was getting from both Dismas’ body and words alike were nearly addictive. No, Reynauld didn’t plan to stop anytime soon, so long as his jaw muscles didn’t give out first. With a dizzying euphoria, Reynauld realized that he’d have to practice at this often if he wanted to strengthen his jaw. The thought ached pleasantly in his core. 

“Use your hand, then, for what you can’t take yet,” Dismas offered helpfully, and Reynauld did so, wrapping his hand around the hilt of the Highwayman’s shaft, just above Dismas’ taut balls. “And try sucking. If you want,” he quickly added.

Reynauld was emboldened by the input and leaned down again without any hesitation this time, parting his lips and widening his mouth once more to slide Dismas inside. It still didn’t feel natural, and probably wouldn’t without practicing further, but now Reynauld knew where to stop before he gagged himself again. 

His tongue automatically pressed beneath the dripping cockhead, needing to hear the groan it elicited from the rogue, and with a little effort, managed to gently suck on Dismas’ dick.

Dismas’ legs tensed and he hissed in a shallow breath, his body going very still in stark contrast compared to when Reynauld was the one receiving and thrusting in time with the Highwayman’s movement. The holy man glanced to the side where Dismas’ freehand was clenched in the sheets, knuckles white from the strain, and the effect he had on his partner went directly to Reynauld’s groin. 

The hand in Reynauld’s hair was still gentle, neither urging or stopping, but the other twisted the bedding sharply when Reynauld sucked in his cheeks and slid his mouth up, then down, Dismas’ throbbing cock. 

Letting out a shaky laugh, Dismas watched him intently. “You catch on quick, priest.”

Reynauld felt his face flush at the praise, wanting more of it, and decided to improvise with his tongue by grinding it against that thrumming vein, back and forth, over and over. He was rewarded with a gush of precum and a hitched, keening whine for his efforts, and gods above , the sound of Dismas crying out jolted straight to Reynauld’s own half-hard dick. 

With his hand keeping him from going too far, Reynauld eventually found a rhythm that had Dismas’ legs twitching from barely-contained movement, each downward suck of his stretched mouth leaving Dismas panting. Reynauld knew he wasn’t good enough or coordinated enough to incorporate his hand just yet, not the way Dismas liked to do when he would tease the Crusader and draw out the brink of his orgasm before slowing down, but that didn’t seem to be an issue. Dismas was clearly enjoying himself regardless, his shaft bucking and tip seeping with each draw of Reynauld’s tongue. 

“Just like that, Reynauld,” Dismas moaned, and Reynauld moaned back in a hum mindlessly. “Light be damned, you’re perfect.”

Reynauld felt a heady spike of pride at that rushing to his own straining erection, and without a second thought, Reynauld reached down with his freehand to relieve some of the pressure building up. His knees ached, his jaw ached, even his balls ached, but every amount of pain he felt was meaningless next to the feel of Dismas in his mouth. He didn’t want it to end, didn’t ever want to stop fucking Dismas with his mouth and tongue, and Reynauld closed his eyes to focus on the overwhelming senses: taste, touch, sound, the only things that mattered right now. 

His hand stroked himself clumsily, every ounce of his attention dedicated to making Dismas crumble the way he deserved, but Reynauld knew it wouldn’t take much to get himself to the edge, not with how aroused he already was from this. 

The realization embarrassed him, made him feel wonderfully, thrillingly filthy in a way only Dismas could make him experience without the usual sting of guilt instilled in Reynauld by both his father and the church. He was on his knees, pleasuring another man with only his mouth -- pleasuring Dismas with his mouth -- groaning wantonly and far more confident than he had felt all night. 

Perhaps tomorrow, Reynauld could manage to cum without even touching himself, so long as he could continue sucking Dismas off. The thought further slicked his hand at his dick.

Soon, the hand at his hair tightened, pulling the tousled locks uncomfortably and Reynauld looked up with his eyes, his momentum halting. Spit had completely covered his own hand and the lower half of his face, his beard soaked with saliva and precum, but Reynauld couldn’t bring himself to care. In fact, he felt a flicker of irritation at having to pause at all.

“Gettin’ close, Rey,” Dismas warned with a shaky breath.

What does that mean? Reynauld’s mind blanked -- he understood what it meant, of course, but what did that mean for him in the moment? Did Dismas want him to pull away? Did he want to pull away?

He rejected the notion immediately, a strange determination filling him instead as Reynauld lowered his mouth back down, resuming his rhythm even more urgently this time. Dismas wasn’t the only one nearing the brink of his orgasm, and Reynauld quickened his pace at his own dick, the sound of Dismas whimpering and panting above him boiling his blood and burning him with need. His tongue continued to stroke the length of what he could fit of Dismas’ shaft, cupped around the thick ridge of his tip and coated in the taste of the Highwayman with every suck of Reynauld’s cheeks. 

Dismas jerked forward suddenly, sharply, too lost to his climax to maintain control as his hips bucked with his orgasm, and Reynauld’s mouth was flooded with warmth. 

“ Fucking Light ,” moaned Dismas, his entire body rigid, his hands still clenched. 

Reynauld tried to swallow what was quickly becoming an overwhelming amount of fluid, but choked. Cum leaked from the corners of his mouth, filling him with a surprisingly bitter taste and he had to pull away, abashed and coughing, as Dismas finished on his face. Splashes of that familiar yet foreign warmth ran along his cheek, into his beard, spilled down his neck, and Reynauld felt the unforgiving demand of his own orgasm barreling him over the edge, blanking his mind. 

As he came seconds later, Reynauld licked the tip of Dismas’ still-hard prick back between his lips which Dismas gasped at. He loved the torrid weight of the Highwayman in his sore, over-stretched mouth. Despite having already came once, Reynauld’s climax now was flat-out overwhelming, dizzying, obscenely intense with his head between Dismas’ thighs.

When he finally came down, Dismas was twitching and cursing from the overstimulation, and Reynauld pulled back sheepishly. “You’re gonna be the death of me doin’ that, Reynauld.”

Reynauld smiled, though the pride he had felt earlier began to fade. He came to his senses slowly, sobering from the rush of their passionate sin together. His mind restarted with a harsh realization of what he had just done and the bitterness in his mouth was now strangely overpowering instead of intoxicating. Reynauld tried to ignore it, tried to focus solely on the bliss that Dismas exuded, but found that he couldn’t; he no longer had the facade of innocent inexperience to hide his anxiety behind.

There was a perverse mess of cum both at the Crusader’s face and in his hand, and with the thrill of the moment deteriorating, true embarrassment crashed into Reynauld like a tidal wave. He pulled away immediately to wipe at his face, eyes down, utterly degraded. 

The post-orgasm lull shattered around him, and Reynauld drew into himself, ashamed.

“Hey, hey,” Dismas quickly propped himself up and reached down to Reynauld with his neckerchief, running a soothing hand along the cum-free half of Reynauld’s face as he cleaned off the indecency on the other half. His dark eyes were filled with concern when Reynauld finally met them. “None of that now, priest. Stay here, with me.”

No. Reynauld’s brows furrowed and he looked away; he felt foolish. 

How many times had the two of them fucked around, experimented, made love? He had no reason to be crippled by the religious guilt now , of all times, to succumb to the never-ending fear of his father’s lash for wallowing in sin and filth. The shame was in stark contrast to the visceral, full-body ecstasy he had experienced moments earlier. It suffocated him, made even harsher compared to the love and acceptance Dismas always treated him with before, during, and after their indulgences. He scolded himself, wanting nothing more than to kiss and touch the other man -- and to be kissed and touched in return, but not knowing how to allow himself to do so. 

Dismas just gently urged him upwards, expression soft and blessedly understanding. As he always was.

The Highwayman knew this habit of Reynauld’s to withdraw after they spent their initial dozen or so nights together, and was remarkably mindful of Reynauld’s inherent guilt after their first times. 

Even now, he merely drew Reynauld close, the mess on the Crusader’s face and beard mostly gone, and held him. Neither of them said a word, just remained skin-to-skin in their idyllic bubble and eventually, the confusing knot of disquiet loosened in Reynauld’s stomach, soothed by Dismas’ silent support. When he eventually relaxed enough to return the embrace, Reynauld hummed gratefully against Dismas’ sweaty black locks. 

“Thank you,” Reynauld murmured. 

He could feel the rumble of Dismas’ tired chuckle, and it brought goosebumps to his bare skin. “Pretty sure I should be thanking you ,” came the lazy answer, and Reynauld realized that he had thanked Dismas after both deeds. When there was no response, Dismas nervously asked, “Do you regret doing that?”

Reynauld squeezed the ex-scoundrel in his arms, his heart clenching at the doubt steeped in Dismas’ words. He loved this man, and if nothing else, the Light was only to blame for delivering Reynauld to him so fully. “No,” he said firmly. Quite the opposite, in fact -- Reynauld had regretted not doing this sooner in their partnership. “Actually… Could I try it again later?”

Dismas huffed a disbelieving laugh at that. “Gods, Rey, I ain’t some young buck, you know. …But maybe in the morning we can try it. Together . Now let’s get you cleaned up.”

The other man motioned to get up, and while Reynauld was dying for a hot soak in the brothel room’s bath with Dismas nestled in his lap, the Crusader didn’t move and instead dared to ask the question he had been itching to know: “Did you enjoy it, Dismas?” He was sure he knew the answer already, but the less-logical side of him needed to hear it; the fear of his performance had been what held Reynauld back from doing this at the start.

“Figured that was obvious.” Then, nervously, Dismas asked, “...What about you?”

Quiet for a moment, Reynauld allowed himself to relive the night’s activities, blushing slightly at the remnants of the thrill he still felt from sucking the Highwayman’s cock. Then, with a surge of confidence that overshadowed any religious confliction that damnably plagued him, he nodded, happily resolute. “I’m already counting down the hours until I can do that again.”

Dismas shivered pleasantly in his arms, then Reynauld finally released him to get up and start warming the bath water. He watched his naked partner silently, who took the heated water to the tub until it was filled with steaming suds, then proceeded to climb in. 

Reflective, Reynauld sighed, content. They still had some hurdles to overcome between them, of course, and Reynauld had many of his own faults to work on, but being with Dismas brought him a euphoric peace that he hadn’t felt since before the crusades. A peace that Reynauld hadn’t thought he deserved, much less one he would fumble into while fighting for his life on the Old Road. For whatever the Holy Light thought of them, Reynauld thanked it regardless for blessing him with the grumpy, glaring rogue. 

For Dismas was certainly glaring at him from within the tub, his scowl impatient. “You gonna come join me or are you just gonna lay there and watch, old man?”

Reynauld considered the idea with raised brows -- either would have been fine with him, and he said as much -- but at Dismas’ flushed cheeks and narrowed eyes and restless squirming, Reynauld figured a rinse was the better option. Besides, he was still covered in the aftermath of their love-making, and eventually clambered into the tub as well. 

After quite a bit of adjusting, Dismas finally settled in Reynauld’s lap, between his legs, his head rested back on Reynauld’s chest as Reynauld massaged spiced tallow into the long, black locks. They were quiet, mood lulled into a warm tranquility. With the steam curling around them, they were enveloped in a hushed, relaxing sanctuary far removed from anything that could hurt them. His thick fingers kneaded at Dismas’ scalp, working the meager soap into a lather then washing it out. He repeated the process, enjoying the commonplace gesture and the intimacy it provided, delighting in the small sounds coming from his partner, until Dismas grew restless and insisted on returning the favor.

He shimmied around and started to scrub at Reynauld’s beard and hair, carefully and meticulously washing away any trace of their night, and Reynauld stayed still for him, watching Dismas work. His hands in Reynauld’s hair, soft and gentle as they scrubbed, were reminiscent of earlier when Reynauld had been lowered to his lap and at his mercy. The explicit memory urged Reynauld up to join their lips in a tender kiss before pulling away and grinning. 

“Let me know when you’re ready for more,” teased the once-righteous knight, sliding his hands up Dismas’ thighs suggestively. 

With fondness in his voice, Dismas smirked salaciously back at the Crusader and said, “Who would’ve thought you were such a cockslut, Rey?”

Reynauld chuckled, then reached up to kiss Dismas once more, deeply, passionately , sliding his tongue against parted lips to give the Highwayman a taste of himself as he had done to Reynauld earlier. When they finally parted, breathless, Reynauld pulled Dismas even closer and whispered:

“Only for you, Dismas.”